


5 Possible Endings for Stannis Baratheon, +1 That I Want Desperately

by aunt_zelda



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Betrayal, Character Death, Execution, F/M, Future Fic, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyandry, Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five possible endings for Stannis Baratheon, considering the canon of the books, plus one shameless self-indulgence on my part. </p><p>SPOILERS for ADWD. All of these are meant to take place post-ADWD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Possible Endings for Stannis Baratheon, +1 That I Want Desperately

**Author's Note:**

> I've been listening to a lot of the History of Westeros podcast, and at one point there was speculation about a certain legendary figure, and this got me to thinking about all kinds of possible futures for Stannis Baratheon. Took some notes on my phone and realized I had the makings of a couple future fics. 
> 
> Obviously we have some time before we find out from the books. So I wrote a 5 +1 fic. 
> 
> The +1 is shameless happy-ending self indulgence I can't even apologize for. I've had a rough couple of weeks and I needed to write something like that for myself. 
> 
>  
> 
> If you have strong feelings about any of these, or theories of your own, I'd love to hear them! Leave a comment below, or chat with me over on tumblr, my name on tumblr is: out-there-on-the-maroon.

1\. 

Melisandre has forsaken him, claiming that he is not Azor Ahai. Many of his men have abandoned him, followed the red priestess. He does not blame them. 

He lifts up the child, the squalling babe, the one Melisandre wanted to burn. The child of the King Beyond the Wall. 

The white creature takes it from him, its eyes a piercing ice blue. 

Power, power he never felt as King, as Azor Ahai reborn, flows through Stannis. 

The woman at his side is not Melisandre. Neither is she his wife. She is beautiful and terrible, and has eyes of ice blue. 

She is his queen, and he her king. 

Her Night’s King.

 

2\. 

The Targaryen Prince was merciful, in his own way. He allowed Stannis the option of taking the black, instead of dying a traitor’s death. Many of Stannis’ loyal followers were banished there as well. With the wildlings there, and spearwives in a tower, the vows have been changed slightly. Black brothers and black sisters may join now. 

Stannis is surprised to find himself elected their Lord Commander. He has never been a popular man, or well liked, and yet he wins, in a landslide. Their Lord Commander, chosen by vote, raised up as high as one may climb at the Wall. 

He is not a king, but he is respected and obeyed by loyal men. Stannis can bury his wife without fear of her grave being disturbed, can raise his daughter in safety and teach her how to be a leader, a scholar, perhaps a warrior if her hands choose that path. 

Melisandre left across the Narrow Sea. He misses her counsel but it is better this way, he knows. She still searches for Azor Ahai. He hopes that she finds him, wherever he is, whomever he is. 

Davos took the black with him, said he had borne enough sons already and had no need of his lands for himself. He is in charge of Eastwatch by the Sea, oversees trade and the Night Watch’s ships. He visits often, and Stannis does the same when his duties allow. 

It is enough.

 

3\. 

The risk he takes is a great one.

It succeeds, but he fails.

Bolton’s men and Bolton’s bastard fall through the ice, screaming, crashing, dying, _sinking_. 

The ice cracks. Stannis plunges through and into the water. The shock of the cold almost knocks him unconscious. It won’t be long before he dies. 

He feels so … so utterly … warm … 

 

4\. 

Stannis is dragged in chains before the Mother of Dragons. 

She does not allow him to speak, to defend himself. He is the last Baratheon brother, the last real challenge to her rule. The Dornish are in alliance with her, the Tyrells were burnt into submission, the Iron Islands are bound to her in marriage, and the North … the North had to bow before her. 

She sentences him and he is dragged away. She permits him a last moment with his daughter. Shireen is brave, she does not weep. The Targaryen Queen has no children yet, has already made Shireen her heir. A dragon-daughter for a dragon-mother, Stannis has already heard it said. For all her faults, the Targaryen Queen does not harm children. 

He embraces Shireen one last time, and she is pulled from his arms. 

Stannis is bound to a stake in a pit of sand. He hears the dragons approaching, sees them circling overheard.

The fires consume him before he can feel their teeth. 

 

5\. 

He was not expecting the blow to the back of his head, and certainly not from Davos.

When Stannis wakes, his hands and feet are bound with rough ropes and he is lying on a bunk. 

“Traitor,” he rasps, throat dry, glaring at Davos, who is sitting in a chair nearby.

Davos looks away, ashamed. 

“How much has she promised you for my head?” Stannis does not have the energy for anger. He will die, sold to a Targaryen for an elaborate and public execution. 

“I am not taking you to her, your grace,” Davos says firmly. 

“Who then?” Stannis blinks. Surely not the Bolton remnants?

“No one. I am taking you to safety, your grace. You would not see reason, so I … I had no choice.” Davos sounds as if he is convincing himself, still, of this fact. 

“Coward.” Stannis snaps.

Davos stands up. “Call me what you will, your grace, but I have saved your life. I have done my duty as your Hand. Once you are settled in your new home, if you would take my life for what I have done, it is yours. It has always been yours.” Davos leaves the cabin. 

Stannis sleeps for most of the voyage. He thinks of his daughter, spirited away to safety many months ago by Davos. He thinks of his realm, his crown, his rights, wrested away from him. He thinks of the Blackfyres and their failed rebellions that made the realm bleed for generations. 

They settle in Lorath, one of the Free Cities. Once settled in a room above an inn, Davos kneels to Stannis, bares his neck, and holds out a sharp knife.

Stannis takes the blade and slides it into his own belt. He takes Davos by the hands and raises him up. 

 

+1

“Are you covetous, my lord?” 

Stannis turns to face Queen Daenerys. They are alone in the throne room, a rarity even in these peaceful times. 

He remembers, with a barely suppressed shudder, the first time he saw her in this place. She was perched on the throne, every inch a Queen, debating whether to send him to his death, send him to the Wall, or send him to her bed. 

“No, your grace,” he inclines his head towards her. 

“Lying does not suit you,” Daenerys glides towards him, her skirts trailing. 

“I do not lie.”

“No, that is my Hand, _he_ does not lie,” Daenerys smiles, fondly, as she mentions Davos. “My first husband, he spins pretty half-truths and elaborate stories to conceal the fact that he might, after all, have told a tiny lie. Willas’ grandmother taught him well. It is a great tragedy to me that she died before I was able to meet with her.”

“Perhaps that was for the best, your grace. She might have tried to rule through you.”

Daenerys laughs. “My second husband is honest when it suits him, and lies when he believes it will please me.” She cups his face in her hands. “I have had my fill of liars, husband. I would have honesty between us.”

Stannis sighs. “Very well, your grace. I do not wish to bethroth my only child to a Martell.”

Daenerys releases his face, crossing her arms. “Why?”

“I fear he would seek to rule through her. She is Queen in her own right, twice over, by your decree she is your heir, by my blood she is my heir. Trystane Martell is the Prince of Dorne; I do not think he will simply be Shireen’s consort.”

“The Dornish are more accepting of a woman’s rule than the rest of Westeros. He will obey her and follow her lead, and assuage the concerns of the Westerosi lords who still rankle at the thought of a woman on the Iron Throne.”

“If you would have me be honest with you, your grace, that is what weighs upon my mind.” Stannis glares.

“I have had men’s eyes out for looking at me like that.” Daenerys warns.

“Shireen would never forgive you.”

“Nor my Hand, I believe.”

Stannis goes very still.

Daenerys rises up onto her toes and presses a kiss to his lips. “Perhaps you are not covetous, my lord,” she says, as she pulls away. “Perhaps it is my Hand who covets what I have.”

“He would not presume to … to act upon such desires.”

“I do not doubt it. But he must obey me, in all things.” Daenerys smiles. “Will you accept the betrothal if I allow you a paramour?” 

Stannis flinches. “I would not have him in my bed at your command.”

“I will not _command_ him to do anything. I will only give him permission to act as he sees fit, and give you both my blessing.” Daenerys holds up a finger. “That is, if you agree to support the betrothal of your daughter to Trystane Martell.”

A Dornish betrothal, for a Dornish custom. “My daughter is strong, stronger than I give her credit for at times. She will find the strength to rule one husband, having seen you rule two.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Daenerys titled her head. “So, are we agreed?”

“Yes, your grace.” Stannis looks away from her, face burning. 

“Then I shall speak with my Hand.” Daenerys turns and sweeps from the room.

Stannis stares at the throne for several more minutes, before leaving for his chambers.


End file.
